Spirits of the Bog
Beneath the twilight’s reddened glow
where silvered waters softly flow,
the maples flame against the reeds
and bullfrogs leap and hide in weeds.
Tag: metaphor
Pietra Dura
Here is the closed blue eyelid of time you touch to make sure, to see. Through a flat window of …
From Humble Dark Beginnings
I grew beneath the shadows where light was hard to find lay there amongst the darkness abandoned, left behind. I …
Emily’s Last Words
“I must go in, for the fog is rising,” breathed out that pen we love so well, as she upon …
In Between
So, here I stand amid the briny surge That jostles surf upon the shore, Review another breaker’s jade converge With …
she even looked a bit like you
outside the port-a-johnleaning on the livestock penstrapped between twin stenchesI hold your purse like a used tissue “don’t go anywhere!”so I …
The Seven Year Itch
Ignore it and it reminds massage it it gets irritated Scratch it it looks for more Do all together and …
Fireflies
There are those who live like dark corner dwellers, night sky sojourners watching the others, wishing to join them knowing …